Doug watches a show on TV called Heroes. It’s one of those bizarre, way-out-there shows about people with special “abilities.” I never got into it. Doug also watches Smallville, a modern-day tale about Superman in his younger years. Not being a fan of science-fiction or fantasy, I don’t watch that one either. I did watch the old Superman TV shows – who didn’t? Who could resist a guy who could always find a phone booth where he would transform from mild-mannered Clark Kent into a superhero who was faster than a speeding bullet and could leap tall buildings in a single bound? I always thought it was pretty funny that no one recognized him as Clark Kent just because he wore glasses, but I once failed to recognize an old friend after he shaved off his beard, so maybe I would have been just as unobservant as Lois and Olsen. (But then they were reporters, after all.)
In the past few years, there have been more movies made about superheroes than I can count, and for my husband’s sake, I’ve endured many of them, though I drew the line at Transformers. I’ll admit that I even liked Spiderman – that one had a real story – and Iron Man was pretty funny. But I prefer real heroes over fictional ones.
Like Julie. Julie is a fellow church member. Her husband Keith is disabled and spends most of his days in a wheelchair, even though he is about my age. He cannot work and neither can Julie, whose full-time job is taking care of Keith. Needless to say, money is scarce for them. Keith’s last bout in the hospital left him with an extremely weak immune system, so they have been quite isolated the past few months. Their main companions are the cats they love and the alpacas they raise on the little bit of land they own. We were all surprised this past Sunday when Keith came into church with his walker, wearing a mask to avoid catching germs that could be fatal for him. He and Julie came in late and sat in the back. The woman sitting next to me in choir nudged me when she saw them and said, “That is just sad.” But Julie always has a sweet spirit and a genuine smile on her face.
Then there is Henry, another church member, and his wife Linda. Henry lost his first wife to cancer after faithfully caring for her for many years. Later he met and fell in love with Linda, who is about two years older than I am. Shortly before they were to be married, Linda discovered that she also had cancer, and it was bad. Not wanting Henry to go through that again, she lovingly tried to let him “off the hook,” but he would have none of that. They married and have been a sweet and loving couple that always hold hands and exchange loving glances while sitting in church on the pew in front of us. It’s been rough. Linda has been through chemo twice, and now it looks like she won’t win this fight. But Henry is right there by her side, and her faith has been an inspiration to the entire church. We all love them. When Linda lost her hair, all the ladies in the church wore hats one Sunday as a show of support for her.
I have other heroes, like my dear friend Vivian. Vivian is one of the most giving, unselfish people I know. When a single friend of hers adopted a special needs child, Vivian helped raise the boy, babysitting whenever her friend needed a break. She and Ken became his second family. Later, Vivian took her mother-in-law into her home and cared for her until she died of liver cancer. Now she has her own aging mother in her home and keeps her grandchild during the week while her daughter-in-law works. She has done all this willingly and without complaining. She is the best grandma I know.
All caregivers are my heroes. There’s my sister, who took her mother-in-law out of the nursing home she hated, and cared for until the end of her life, even though she was a difficult woman at times. And my cousin's wife Janice, who cares for her mother who has Alzheimer's, her grandchildren, and now her great-grandchildren. And my mother-in-law, who befriended an elderly woman whose children lived in another state and were uninvolved. She visited her in the nursing home faithfully until she died. My friend Charlise took a great-aunt into her home and cared for her many medical needs until the end because there was no one else to do it. Now her husband has taken over the care of their aging pastor who has Alzheimer’s. I’m not sure I could ever be so unselfish as to take on the care of someone I have no familial obligation to!
These people are true heroes. They don’t make blockbuster movies about them. They don’t get much reward in this life, but they have earned a crown in heaven. I only hope that when I find myself in the position of caregiver, which I probably will soon, I can have the same sweet spirit they have all possessed.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Then comes the morning
There’s magic in the morning. When I was a young girl, I would sometimes get down and out over some teenage romance gone sour or Daddy’s strictness, and Mama would always give me the same advice: Go to bed. Things always look better in the morning. And they always did.
I don’t know why it works. Maybe all the anxiety is discharged through my bizarre dreams. Maybe the mind just needs to rest same as the body. Whatever it is, the morning sun is medicine to the soul. Every morning is a gift from God – another day of love and life, a fresh start, a chance to live life better and make better choices than I did the day before. Yesterday’s arguments seem silly, failed diets begin anew. That long-delayed project might actually begin today. Yes, there is excitement with each new day.
Surely nature intended that we would rise with the sun. Now that I’m retired, I have that luxury. The one thing I hated most about working was having to get out of bed while it was still dark outside. It just wasn’t natural. But there was a payoff – when I drove to the end of the road leading out of our subdivision, I often saw the sun rising over the pasture across the road where horses grazed. I turned north, but then quickly turned back to the east and drove to school watching the giant red orb rise over cotton fields and farms. By the time I reached the school, I had prayed for the new day and was ready to face a classroom of energetic teenagers.
People wax over spectacular sunsets, but to me, a sunrise is so much better. Sunsets signal the end – the end of day, the end of life. A sunrise is a newborn baby – a new beginning, filled with hope. And it is beautiful. There could not be a more lovely sight than that of the sun rising over the Atlantic Ocean. I never go to the beach without getting up early one morning and walking down the sandy beach as I watch the firey red orb of the sun emerge from the water and send a stream of colored light across the ripples. It illuminates the low-lying clouds with streaks of orange, red, and gold before it rises above them and transforms into the smaller, much brighter yellow sun that lights the day. It is breath-taking. I think of all the poor, deprived souls who sleep in till noon and never see such beauty.
Yes, there’s magic in the morning.
I don’t know why it works. Maybe all the anxiety is discharged through my bizarre dreams. Maybe the mind just needs to rest same as the body. Whatever it is, the morning sun is medicine to the soul. Every morning is a gift from God – another day of love and life, a fresh start, a chance to live life better and make better choices than I did the day before. Yesterday’s arguments seem silly, failed diets begin anew. That long-delayed project might actually begin today. Yes, there is excitement with each new day.
Surely nature intended that we would rise with the sun. Now that I’m retired, I have that luxury. The one thing I hated most about working was having to get out of bed while it was still dark outside. It just wasn’t natural. But there was a payoff – when I drove to the end of the road leading out of our subdivision, I often saw the sun rising over the pasture across the road where horses grazed. I turned north, but then quickly turned back to the east and drove to school watching the giant red orb rise over cotton fields and farms. By the time I reached the school, I had prayed for the new day and was ready to face a classroom of energetic teenagers.
People wax over spectacular sunsets, but to me, a sunrise is so much better. Sunsets signal the end – the end of day, the end of life. A sunrise is a newborn baby – a new beginning, filled with hope. And it is beautiful. There could not be a more lovely sight than that of the sun rising over the Atlantic Ocean. I never go to the beach without getting up early one morning and walking down the sandy beach as I watch the firey red orb of the sun emerge from the water and send a stream of colored light across the ripples. It illuminates the low-lying clouds with streaks of orange, red, and gold before it rises above them and transforms into the smaller, much brighter yellow sun that lights the day. It is breath-taking. I think of all the poor, deprived souls who sleep in till noon and never see such beauty.
Yes, there’s magic in the morning.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Another Kitchen Disaster
As you can see from the picture, my bundt cake did not turn out exactly the way I had envisioned it. I was trying my cousin’s Deb’s latest entry to the family newsletter and cookbook, Triple Chocolate Coffee Cake. First, I broke the cardinal rule of cooking – never try a new recipe on company. Actually, I’ve broken that rule numerous times with mixed results. I never learn.
Then I made my next mistake – I changed something in the recipe. In this case, it was the pan I baked it in. The recipe said to pour the batter into two 8X8” square pans. I decided it would make a lovely bundt cake. Hah-ha. I realized that the bundt pan was probably too full, but plowed ahead and plopped it in the oven. Sure enough, the batter rose and spilled over the sides, making a terrible stink throughout the house. But the worse part was, it didn’t get done in the center. I took it out too soon, and you can see the results of an undercooked bundt cake. Doug took one look, laughed, and said I better go to the store and buy a pie.
But you know the old saying – “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” I decided to break my half-baked cake into chunks and put it in one of those 8X8 pans I should have used in the first place. I sprinkled white chocolate chips on top and baked it a little longer. The result I called chocolate cobbler, as it looked similar to the dessert Cracker Barrel serves by that name. It had the texture of lava cake, and was delicious served with ice cream. My company was none the wiser; in fact, they were impressed!
There have been other similar disasters. On the Fourth of July, I wanted to make homemade peach ice cream for Sean and Misty who were up for the holiday. Mama and Daddy were coming for the cookout as well. That morning I was cooking the custard for the ice cream on top of the stove, stirring the milk and sugar. Sean called me from down in the basement to come see something on the computer. The custard seemed far from boiling, so I went down for a quick look. It turned out he wanted me to see a video of the chicken farmer singing on America’s Got Talent. It took a while, and of course, I forgot all about the custard. When I remembered, I turned and ran up the stairs and into the kitchen only to see custard boiling over all across my smooth-topped stove, where it burned into hard lava rock. I threw it out, sent Sean to find more evaporated milk at the store down the road, and started over. The rest of the day was spent scraping lava rock off my stovetop, which, thankfully, was not ruined.
These kind of disasters and the fact that I really don’t like to sew are why I avoid telling people I was a home economics major. People would expect better.
Monday, November 09, 2009
If I Were Perfect
If I were perfect, my day would go something like this: I would rise up early, no later than 7:00 am, well before Doug gets out of bed. I would remember to weigh before doing anything else so my eating would be controlled. I would then start the coffee, take out the dog, and spend some time reading from God’s Word. Next I would hike up and down the steep driveway to jump start my metabolism for the day. By then, Doug would be awake, and we would enjoy a healthy breakfast together. I would then clean up the kitchen, putting away the dishes in the dishwasher, and check the menu to see if I need to take food out of the freezer for supper.
I would start a load of clothes in the washing machine. Next, I would check my email WITHOUT getting on Face Book where I might become engrossed for the next hour. Instead, I would straighten up the house and do any cleaning that needed to be done.
By now, I would be ready to start my project for the day, whether it be painting a picture, writing, or working in the yard. I would alternate and be sure that I worked on each of these projects at least once a week.
After taking time for lunch, I would go up to Mama’s and help her out in whatever manner she needed. Then I would sit down and just visit for a while.
When I got back home, I would spend some time practicing on my fiddle. Then I would run errands if need be, and if not, I would get back to work on the project for that day.
I would start supper on time, and fix plenty enough to take left-overs to Mama and Daddy afterwards. I would clean up the kitchen, then load and start the dishwasher. Then I could sit down at the computer to check email and spend time surfing the Net or playing games on Facebook. I would be sure to touch base with friends and family thru email or the phone. I might watch a little TV with Doug if there is something on I really want to see. I would end the day with time spent reading, and get to bed no later than 11:00. Before I went to bed, though, I would check my planner for the next day and take my vitamins. I would wash my face and take good care of my skin.
That would be a perfect day. It rarely happens - ok, it never happens. I too often sleep till 8 or 8:30. I linger over breakfast and play with Little Bit. I watch GMA, Regis and Kelly, The Doctors, and sometimes The View while I putter around the house. Often there are places we have to go, usually a doctor’s office, and the day is shot. I waste time playing Bejeweled on the computer and often don’t get around to working on any projects. I forget about supper until around 5:00 when I start figuring out what we have to eat. I put clothes in the washer and forget to dry them. Then when I dry them, I forget to take them out until they are all wrinkled. I seldom exercise, and often don’t take time to read my Bible. I watch the same old stories play on FOX over and over only to become worried and anxious about the future. I eat too much. I stay up way too late playing Scrabble on Face Book with my sister, then go to bed with my make-up on.
Paul said it best in the Scriptures: “For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do – this I keep doing.” Thank goodness Paul doesn’t stop there, but tells us that Jesus will rescue us from this body of sin! (Even a fat, out-of-shape body!)
I would start a load of clothes in the washing machine. Next, I would check my email WITHOUT getting on Face Book where I might become engrossed for the next hour. Instead, I would straighten up the house and do any cleaning that needed to be done.
By now, I would be ready to start my project for the day, whether it be painting a picture, writing, or working in the yard. I would alternate and be sure that I worked on each of these projects at least once a week.
After taking time for lunch, I would go up to Mama’s and help her out in whatever manner she needed. Then I would sit down and just visit for a while.
When I got back home, I would spend some time practicing on my fiddle. Then I would run errands if need be, and if not, I would get back to work on the project for that day.
I would start supper on time, and fix plenty enough to take left-overs to Mama and Daddy afterwards. I would clean up the kitchen, then load and start the dishwasher. Then I could sit down at the computer to check email and spend time surfing the Net or playing games on Facebook. I would be sure to touch base with friends and family thru email or the phone. I might watch a little TV with Doug if there is something on I really want to see. I would end the day with time spent reading, and get to bed no later than 11:00. Before I went to bed, though, I would check my planner for the next day and take my vitamins. I would wash my face and take good care of my skin.
That would be a perfect day. It rarely happens - ok, it never happens. I too often sleep till 8 or 8:30. I linger over breakfast and play with Little Bit. I watch GMA, Regis and Kelly, The Doctors, and sometimes The View while I putter around the house. Often there are places we have to go, usually a doctor’s office, and the day is shot. I waste time playing Bejeweled on the computer and often don’t get around to working on any projects. I forget about supper until around 5:00 when I start figuring out what we have to eat. I put clothes in the washer and forget to dry them. Then when I dry them, I forget to take them out until they are all wrinkled. I seldom exercise, and often don’t take time to read my Bible. I watch the same old stories play on FOX over and over only to become worried and anxious about the future. I eat too much. I stay up way too late playing Scrabble on Face Book with my sister, then go to bed with my make-up on.
Paul said it best in the Scriptures: “For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do – this I keep doing.” Thank goodness Paul doesn’t stop there, but tells us that Jesus will rescue us from this body of sin! (Even a fat, out-of-shape body!)
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Nagamind Nuisance
The other night I noticed a book that had been sitting on my shelf for well over a year entitled, simply enough, Worry. Since I’ve had plenty to worry about lately (in fact, I’ve never had any trouble finding SOMETHING to worry about) I decided to peruse it. The book is written by a doctor named Edward M. Hallowell, and in it he describes some of the patients he has treated over the years. One was a doctor who had been sued in a frivolous malpractice suit by someone she had considered a friend. She was so traumatized by the event that she lived in fear of being sued again and found it difficult to continue practicing medicine, so she sought the help of Dr. Hallowell – who I keep wanting to call Dr. Halloween. Anyway, he tried some out-of-the-box treatments for her fear. One was to objectify her fear and give it a name. So, she imagined that her fear was a big ugly toad she named Hugo. Whenever she felt her fear coming on, she pictured Hugo hopping up to her, and she would simply shoo him away. Dr. Halloween admits it sounds crazy, but he claims it really helped.
I figure why not give it a try; it can’t hurt anything, and it’s much cheaper than a visit to a psychiatrist. But of course, I can’t just copy what someone else has done; I have to be more creative than that. And besides, I imagine my fears and worries to be much bigger than a little toad. So what animal could I use? Well, around here, people talk about nuisance bears that get into their trash cans and bird feeders. Perfect! From now on, my fears shall take the shape of a big black bear with the catchy name of Nagamind Nuisance. I will picture the large creature lumbering up our driveway towards our house. Now they tell me that the best action to take when you encounter a bear is to wave and make lots of noise to scare it away, so long as it’s not cornered or has a cub. If it’s a mama bear with a cub, the best action is to pray real hard. (Which also helps a WHOLE LOT with my real worries.)
So next time I get worried that Obama is going to bankrupt our economy and leave us without our government pension, I will see old Nagamind Nuisance coming and grab some pots and pans and clang them together real loud and shout, “Get out of here, Nagamind Nuisance!” The poor frightened bear will turn and run away as fast as his furry legs will carry him. No more fear.
So how is it working for me? So far, the idea amuses me enough to dispel my worries fairly well. You will have to ask me later on about its long-term effectiveness.
Sleepless in Hayesville
Well, it’s another sleepless night for me. Here it is at 2:00 a.m. and I haven’t dozed off once, mainly because I couldn’t shut my brain off. I kept thinking about Sean and Misty and their house, and Hayden, and then I worried about Mama and Daddy for a while, and then I thought about my painting, and the whole time Free Bird was playing in my head! After an hour and a half of all that mind chatter, I decided to get up and write. (That’s how I started writing in the first place.) The experts say if you lie in bed awake for longer than an hour – or is it thirty minutes; I’m not sure – you should get up and do something quiet that relaxes you, like read or work crossword puzzles. Writing works, too. Actually, it serves as a kind of brain dump, where I can unload all the pesky worries and thoughts that keep me awake. I also took a sleepy pill that should kick in in about an hour.
Those same experts also tell you that it’s not good to be on the computer or watch TV late at night because it’s too stimulating to the brain. I hope they’re wrong about that, because that’s when my sister and I play long-distance Scrabble on Face book. In fact, we played from 10:00 until I went to bed at 12:30. I squeezed in a few games of Bejeweled while I waited for my turn. (Bejeweled has got to be the world’s most addictive game.) Mary Jane and I love to chat while we play; there’s nothing like good ole Scrabble trash talk! We call each other endearing names like Turkey Butt and sick sadistic sister. Unfortunately, I was getting beat tonight in every game we played.
Today was a nice day. I took Mama up to the church to have lunch. The church ladies all bring a sandwich and sit around the table eating and talking on the first Tuesday of every month. It’s just a time of fellowship. This was only the third time I had made it there; something has always interfered with our going. Usually it’s been one of Doug’s eye shots. They’ve all been scheduled on Tuesdays, but we had them moved to Wednesdays, and that’s what we’ll be doing tomorrow.
Mama enjoyed getting out of the house. After I took her home, I went over to Verlee’s studio to paint with her and three other people. Verlee taught two painting classes I went to at the art gallery where I volunteer twice a month. She has an “open studio” every Tuesday from 1-4, and today was the first time I have gone. We sat around chatting and painting while she had this great CD playing with all these songs I grew up with – that’s where Free Bird got stuck in my brain. The neat thing is that it doesn’t cost anything, and we can all give each other advice.
From there I went to the children’s home and helped Isaiah with his math and reading. He is a cute little boy in the first grade. Sometimes he is a holy terror, but today he was sweet and cooperative. I also helped Spring with her math. After staying there for an hour, I returned home and painted some more until I got hungry and heated up the beef stew I had made for company this weekend.
Doug had been at Sean’s since yesterday, helping him put down new floors in their bathrooms. He spent the night at his mom and dad’s and worked with Sean all day today as well. I’m told the house looks really good and can’t wait to see it when everything is done. I did see it the day they closed the loan, but it was very much a construction zone, and there was still much to do. Sean and Misty are so excited about their new home. Well, it’s new to them, and they are making it look like new. I guess they are nesting, getting ready for little Hayden. Just three more months!!! I’ll be a grandmother! I hope she will like to draw and paint so we can do that together. I know I can read to her. I’m very good at reading out loud to children.
Well, it’s been 45 minutes, and the pill hasn’t started working yet. Oh, well. Since I never got around to reading the Sunday paper and it’s still lying in the chair, I might as well do that. Good night!
Those same experts also tell you that it’s not good to be on the computer or watch TV late at night because it’s too stimulating to the brain. I hope they’re wrong about that, because that’s when my sister and I play long-distance Scrabble on Face book. In fact, we played from 10:00 until I went to bed at 12:30. I squeezed in a few games of Bejeweled while I waited for my turn. (Bejeweled has got to be the world’s most addictive game.) Mary Jane and I love to chat while we play; there’s nothing like good ole Scrabble trash talk! We call each other endearing names like Turkey Butt and sick sadistic sister. Unfortunately, I was getting beat tonight in every game we played.
Today was a nice day. I took Mama up to the church to have lunch. The church ladies all bring a sandwich and sit around the table eating and talking on the first Tuesday of every month. It’s just a time of fellowship. This was only the third time I had made it there; something has always interfered with our going. Usually it’s been one of Doug’s eye shots. They’ve all been scheduled on Tuesdays, but we had them moved to Wednesdays, and that’s what we’ll be doing tomorrow.
Mama enjoyed getting out of the house. After I took her home, I went over to Verlee’s studio to paint with her and three other people. Verlee taught two painting classes I went to at the art gallery where I volunteer twice a month. She has an “open studio” every Tuesday from 1-4, and today was the first time I have gone. We sat around chatting and painting while she had this great CD playing with all these songs I grew up with – that’s where Free Bird got stuck in my brain. The neat thing is that it doesn’t cost anything, and we can all give each other advice.
From there I went to the children’s home and helped Isaiah with his math and reading. He is a cute little boy in the first grade. Sometimes he is a holy terror, but today he was sweet and cooperative. I also helped Spring with her math. After staying there for an hour, I returned home and painted some more until I got hungry and heated up the beef stew I had made for company this weekend.
Doug had been at Sean’s since yesterday, helping him put down new floors in their bathrooms. He spent the night at his mom and dad’s and worked with Sean all day today as well. I’m told the house looks really good and can’t wait to see it when everything is done. I did see it the day they closed the loan, but it was very much a construction zone, and there was still much to do. Sean and Misty are so excited about their new home. Well, it’s new to them, and they are making it look like new. I guess they are nesting, getting ready for little Hayden. Just three more months!!! I’ll be a grandmother! I hope she will like to draw and paint so we can do that together. I know I can read to her. I’m very good at reading out loud to children.
Well, it’s been 45 minutes, and the pill hasn’t started working yet. Oh, well. Since I never got around to reading the Sunday paper and it’s still lying in the chair, I might as well do that. Good night!
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